We Are Family
by drewbug
Summary: Character exploration, involving a little bit of everyone. Mostly Mal though... H/C


We Are Family

Nicole Clevenger 

(c) October 2002

Disclaimer and notes: Joss Whedon is a genius. I want to have that tattooed on my butt. Until then, I will content myself with borrowing these wonderful characters he's given us, always to return them only slightly singed and profit-free. This is a very early Firefly piece, and as such may very soon be obsolete. Alas. 

~~~

Kaylee

"I'm worried about Mal."

The girl slid out from under one of the bulky machines in the engine room, her welcoming grin lost under a look of confused conern. Inara was just marveling at how unusually clean Kaylee looked, when the act of brushing a strand of hair away left a fresh streak of grime across the girl's forehead.

"Why? Did something happen to the Captain?" Kaylee was on her feet before the end of the sentence.

Inara hesitated. "Well, not 'happened' exactly..." Kaylee was watching her expectantly, her eyes wide and waiting. She began to feel silly that she'd come here. The girl wiped her hands on the legs of her coveralls, never looking away from the Companion. "I think he's sick," Inara finally blurted, feeling her cheeks grow warm. It just sounded so childish suddenly, out here in the dim light of the ship.

Kaylee's expression morphed into its accustomed smile. "Aw, heck, I thought he'd taken himself a header off the catwalk or somethin'." She waved a hand, dismissing Inara's concern. "Cap'n's fine, 'Nara. I've seen him much worse shape than this. Like the time he kept running off to puke his ol' guts out every ten minutes..." Kaylee continued cheerfully, oblivious to Inara's cringing, "Couldn't keep him in bed no matter. 'Course, he'd never actually admit to being sick -- then or now." Kaylee shrugged, smiled again. "Naw, Captain's shiny. You'll see... tomorrow he'll be just like his old self." 

~~~

Simon

I'm worried about Mal."

Simon looked up from what he'd been reading to see Inara standing in the doorway of the Infirmary. "Hmm?"

Inara took another step into the room. "I'm concerned about Mal. I think he's ill."

"Huh." Simon's gaze slid -- as it so often did -- to the figure of his sister watching from her place in the corner. River said nothing, her eyes flicking back and forth between the other two people in the room. Inara smiled sweetly at the girl but received no noticeable response. She turned back to find Simon's attention returned to her.

"I don't want to be rude," Simon said, "but I'm not sure what it is you want me to do."

Inara took a slow breath and regained her slipping composure. "You are the doctor. I thought perhaps you could check on him," she managed politely. A Companion should never lose her temper in public, she reminded herself silently.

"Check on him?" A somewhat strangled laugh escaped the young man. Seeing that Inara did not share his amusement, he cleared his throat and tried again. "I doubt very much that he'd appreciate that."

She took another breath, frustration returning so quickly she felt she might choke. "You must have noticed that he's practically dead on his feet. As a physician, don't you feel the need to help him? After all that he's done for you and River?"

Simon flinched, his eyes instinctively finding his sister yet again. This time his look lingered on her as he spoke. "I... I've found it best to stay out of the Captain's way. He seems to prefer that. Besides," he said, glancing back at Inara, "since we've been here, he hasn't seen much need for my services." Simon's shrug was self-deprecating. "If Captain Reynolds wants me, he knows where to find me."

~~~

Jayne

"I'm worried about Mal."

Jayne looked up from the weapon he'd been cleaning. "Huh?" Inara looked unsure, wary -- as if Jayne was the last person in the 'verse she wanted to be talking to. Which suited him just fine, since he didn't have much to say to her himself. Generally they stayed away from each other, and everyone was happy.

As happy as everyone got around there anyway.

"He isn't well," she continued, focusing on a point just past his left ear. "Surely you've noticed..."

Jayne shrugged, continued with what he'd been doing. "So he's got a cold. Big ruttin' deal. He's a big boy, can take care of himself." The big man paused, then looked up at her with a leer. "Unless he paid you to do it for him, right?"

The insinuation got the desired effect. Inara scowled at him. "I don't know why I bothered. You don't care about him at all, do you?" The Companion turned to leave, adding, "Unless he pays you to do it for him, right?"

Jayne watched her go, staring at the space she had been for a long moment. "Got that right," he muttered, returning again to his task.

~~~

Zoe & Wash

"I'm worried about Mal."

Inara had entered the cockpit to find Zoe sitting on her husband's lap, the two of them holding each other close and watching the stars go by. She'd been loathe to interrupt their stolen moment of privacy, but her concerns won out. Still, there was still a faint pang of guilt when Zoe immediately got to her feet. Inara didn't miss Wash's quickly-concealed frown as he turned the pilot's chair around to face her.

"Why? What's happened?" Zoe demanded, looking as if she were ready to run from the area and track her captain down.

Inara almost sighed with relief, having finally found an ally in her concern. "He's ill, and seems to be getting worse. He won't rest, despite the fact that he's obviously running on his last energies --"

"And you can bet he won't, not until we've made the delivery," Zoe interrupted. "Captain don't take much for sitting down when there's a job to be done."

Inara's hopes fell with the other woman's matter-of-fact tone. "But surely you've noticed what bad shape he's in..."

Zoe smiled, returning to her place on her husband's lap. "I've seen him much worse. Captain always pulls through."

"Yeah, Mal's a regular hero," Wash mumbled, nuzzling his wife's neck. With Zoe's hair muffling the words, Inara couldn't be sure of the sarcasm she thought she heard.

The dark-haired Companion fought to keep her voice level. "I can't understand why none of you are concerned. Mal's sick, not eating... He's been pale as a spirit the last few days, looking like he might fall over at any moment..." She could hear the near-frantic lilt to her words, but couldn't seem to make it stop. She'd thought these people were like family, watching out for one another, but she was beginning to think that maybe she didn't understand them at all.

Zoe was on her feet again, a hand on Inara's slender arm. "Inara, he'll be fine. Just let him alone, and he'll work it out." She shot a look back over her shoulder to Wash. "It ain't that we don't care..." Her eyes returned to meet Inara's. "Mal doesn't really go in for being coddled."

"You can coddle me, baby," Wash said, reaching out his hand to Zoe.

"Yes, well..." Inara found herself at a loss for what to say. "Excuse me." She turned and left the two of them together under the stars.

~~~

Book

"I'm worried about Mal."

The preacher looked up from his Bible, which he was still trying to make sense of after River had set out to "fix" it. He set the book aside, motioning for Inara to come further into his small quarters. He waited until she had taken a seat across from him. "I had expected that you of all people might be."

She was about to ask him what that meant, when he continued. "I confess to some concern on my part as well. However, the captain's a grown man. I'm sure he can look after himself."

Inara sighed, letting some of the exasperation she felt come through. "That's what everyone else on the ship has said to me."

Book smiled softly and took her hand across the narrow table. "I don't know your exact, ah... relationship with the captain," Inara opened her mouth, and he held up a finger to forestall the protest he saw coming, "but is it possible that most of them know him better than you do?"

She pulled her hand away, and Book watched her struggle to maintain her composure. "Yesterday I came upon him in the corridor near my shuttle, leaning against the wall as if it was the only thing keeping him on his feet. You've heard him coughing? Seen how bad he looks?" Appearances forgotten, Inara paced in the tight space, her concern evident. She stopped suddenly, whirling to face the seated man. "I may not have been with Mal as long as Zoe or some of the others, but I can certainly tell that there's something wrong."

Book waited until she was done. "You said you've talked to everyone else," he said quietly, his calm a stark contrast to her mood. "But have you spoken with the man himself?"

Inara smiled humorlessly, her lips in a thin line. "I doubt he would speak to me." She sighed. "I doubt he speaks to anyone."

~~~

Mal

"I hear tell you're worried about me."

Inara looked up from the letter she was writing to see Mal leaning against the frame of the shuttle door. She moved to rise, but he held up a hand to stop her. "Came by to tell you there ain't no cause."

He coughed once into his fist. "Mal, I --" She broke off when the coughing continued. Getting to her feet, she took his arm and led him back to the chair she'd been sitting in. He took the seat but pulled his arm out of her grasp, glaring up at her as he fought to get his breath back. Inara waited, studying the lines on his pale face. His eyes had a glassy look to them, but at the moment they burned fever-hot above the spots of color high on his cheekbones. 

"Don't you say nothing," he grumbled.

"Fine." Inara moved into another part of the shuttle, returning almost immediately with a glass of water. Mal eyed it suspiciously, making no move to take it from her. Irritated, she set it on the desk in front of him with more force than she'd intended, splashing some of the liquid over the side and onto the wood.

She made a small noise in her throat: Real wood was hard to come by these days, and the desk was one of the more expensive things she owned. A stain on the dark desktop would be a smear on her carefully cultivated image. Inara turned to find something with which to clean it. She wasn't expecting Mal to push himself out of the chair with the same intent.

"Here, I'll --"

She also wasn't expecting it when he swayed, what little color he had left draining fast from his face. He braced himself with both hands on the desk's edge, eyes squeezed tightly closed. His mumbled exhalation was in Chinese, forced out through a clenched jaw. "...fuck me blind..."

With just a little effort, Inara managed to get his elbows unlocked and his body back in the chair. She left quickly, returning to find Mal with his head down against the smooth desktop. She cleaned up the spill, her eyes on the top of his head. After a long moment during which he still had not moved, she said his name softly.

He lifted his head, rubbing his eyes roughly. Not looking at her, he said, "I... ah, sorry. You probably have plenty you need to be doing before we hit the planet tomorrow. I've got plenty to be doing myself." His gaze fell to the half-filled glass. "Table okay?"

Inara watched him. "Yes, the table is fine." If he'd heard the stress on the word "table," he gave no sign. "You know, you're not doing a very good job of convincing me that I've got no reason to worry about you."

Mal sneezed, rubbed his eyes again. "Look, lady, I ain't ever been sick a day in my life. Don't see much cause to start now." 

Despite her concern, Inara laughed. "You're impossible." His eyes flicked up to hers, surprised at the angry shift in her tone. "How you can even sit there and try to pretend --"

He pushed himself back to his feet. "No sittin'. And no pretendin' neither." His voice was even, but his body was a stiffened, irritated line. Pausing at the door but not turning back, he said to her, "Stay out of my business like I stay out of yours. And everything'll be just shiny."

~~~

River

He could feel her small hand, cool and soft, whispering across his damp forehead. Hands of a lady, hands protected from the harsh roughness of an honest days's work. Or, well, maybe not so honest. But harsh. Rough. Hands dry and cracking, weathered and cut up. Not her hands, though. She probably had some special oil or somesuch she put on them, to keep them nice and pretty for all her clients. Wouldn't do to have such a beautiful lady with dry, chapped hands. He could imagine what it would feel like to have those hands running soft and smooth over his body. Practiced, light... like water. Cool, clear water.

Water. He was so thirsty, so dry inside. Parched, like he'd been in Serenity, during all that waiting. Thirst like that could drive a man mad, clawing up all hot and dusty inside his throat. Caking everything with a layer of silt, grit that scratched going down and scratched coming back up... He could hear them -- the dying and the mad -- calling out from the darkness around him. Could hear their begging, their crying, their last desperately confessed sins. So thirsty, so tired it hurt to move. So many days lying bleeding and dry, waiting... waiting for them to come. Waiting for rescue. Except they weren't coming, they'd left them all there to die...

"No! I won't --" 

The words had spilled out harshly in Chinese, out before he was even fully conscious. It took him a confused minute to focus his eyes and take stock of the situation. He was sitting up in his tangled bunk, fully clothed and wedged into the space where the two walls met. In the opposite corner -- as far away as she could get in such cramped quarters -- crouched River, watching him warily through wild dark hair.

Mal blinked, not daring to make a move lest the girl bolt. They were each breathing heavily, waiting on the other's reaction. A vague memory of Inara stroking his forehead slid through his mind. He'd thought... But of course not. He'd told her to leave him alone.

He tried to say her name, but it came out a whisper. She flinched when he cleared his throat, repeating the action at the sound of his voice. "River..." he began, trailing off when he realized he didn't really know what to say to this girl who had unexpectantly shown up in his quarters.

She was unbelievably still, hunched there, watching him. So still it seemed like she might never move again. Mal coughed, closing his eyes against the spike of pain in his head. He figured he should do something, get up and show her the door or the like, but he was so tired. And the fog swirling around the inside of his head was pulling him back down again...

He'd almost fallen asleep when her soft voice cut through the silence. "Mal. Bad."

He opened one eye, squinting at her in the dim light. She hadn't moved from her corner. "Yeah, well... You ain't the first person to say so."

"Mal. Hot." She uncurled herself and inched closer. Her movements were so slow that it almost seemed to Mal that she wasn't moving at all. He said nothing, watching fascinated as she reached a tentative hand toward his face. "Mal. Sick."

"River. Crazy."

She stopped, pulling back as if he'd slapped her. Mal cursed in Chinese, maneuvering to sit on the edge of the bed and running a hand through his sweat-drenched hair. "Look, girl..." he tried, searching for the right words with a weary sigh, "You should get on out of here before that brother of yours comes down and accuses me of behaving ungentlemanly-like. Seeing you in here, he'd most like take it in his head to try sending me to Preacher's Special Hell."

"Not here."

Mal misunderstood. "Well, no... Life on Serenity can be right tough most times, but I don't think it's exactly what Preacher meant."

River shook her head. "Not here. No one's home."

"What d'ya mean no one's home?" Mal struggled off the bed, trying to stay upright as the room spun around him. He pressed the heel of his hand hard against the bridge of his nose. "Where'd they go?"

Her words floated around him like half-strung melodies. "...walking on the dirt, burning in the suns... Simon left me too... burning, burning, like all the others..."

The room was growing warmer, his vision beginning to grey at the edges. He pushed through it, reaching for the ladder. He realized what had happened now, and in his anger his English disappeared. "Son of a bitch... I don't ruttin' believe they left me here... Wait 'til I catch up with --" Instead of a ladder rung, his hand closed on empty air. He stumbled, and would have fallen had River not appeared to prop him up. 

"Nightmares," she said sagely, as if continuing a conversation. "They come for you in your sleep. Like me. Always coming, never tiring... They reach for the inside of your skull with their claws..."

Before he realized it, they were back at the bed. She gently pushed him back onto the thin pillow, and he found himself without the strength to resist. His eyelids drooped, but he forced them back open. Her pale face loomed over him, wide eyes searching his face; the naked vulnerability there stabbed someplace deep inside of him. Without conscious intent, his hand came up to brush her tangled hair back away from her skin. "What in the 'verse did they do to you?" he whispered.

She pulled back, ducking her face away from him. His hand dropped to the top of the sheet. He watched her for a moment longer through bluring eyes, then rolled over on his side with his back to her. "Go on," he repeated. "Wouldn't do for them to find you here when they get back, like I said. And you shouldn't be entering rooms without asking anyhow."

There was a long silence, and he'd begun to think that maybe she'd crept back out. He should get up and out himself, find whoever was still on the ship and give them an earful about cutting him out of the drop-off. In just another minute, that's what he was going to do...

The small, soft hand was back, running gently through his hair. It felt so good, like a memory of a dream. Like his mother, all those many years ago. Back when he was a kid on the farm, too sick for school or chores. She used to sit with him, keeping him safe. Funny that she was here again, after so long...

"No claws," River promised.

~~~

Hours later, when everyone else was turning the boat upside down in their search for the missing girl, it was Inara who found them together. Mal, stretched out on the bed. River sitting asleep beside him on the floor, her head pillowed on her arm and her fingers still entangled in his hair.

end

October 2002


End file.
